


don't think twice, it's alright

by alnima



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, More like annoyances to lovers, Neighbors, Sexual Content, The baby is left on Zayn's porch so possibly discussion of abandonment?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alnima/pseuds/alnima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you want?” Harry spits out, glaring at him. His hair is rumpled, shirt on backwards, an obvious sign that he’d been sleeping. </p><p>“I need a banana. Do you have a banana?”</p><p>“You’re banging on my door for a banana?” Harry asks, folding his arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. There’s an ear-piercing scream from inside Zayn’s apartment and Harry perks up, eyes going wide. “Is that a baby?” </p><p>“Yes, that’s why I came here,” Zayn says, sighing. “I need help.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't think twice, it's alright

**Author's Note:**

> If you ever find a baby, please don't follow the advice of this fic. I wanted to focus on Zarry with a baby and not so much on the authorities and procedures, so you shouldn't act like Harry and Zayn in real life. But this is fic life, so whatever. I'm doing what I want. 
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Jen, who was wonderfully helpful. All remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't know or own anyone. This work is my own and it is not featured on any other site, nor does anyone have my permission to repost it in its entirety. Thank you!!!

When Zayn arrives home at half past seven there’s a grey colored mass lying on his couch. It doesn’t belong to him, the cat, but that doesn’t stop the thing from breaking into his house every other day, when Harry, his neighbor, let’s her out back for a bit of fresh air. Zayn can’t remember the beast’s name, only that she’s grown partial to his couch. He’s ready to just give it to Harry, let him have the damn thing so the cat stops breaking through the screen of his window.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Zayn says to the cat, not even able to toe off his boots as he picks her up. He thinks she’s a she, he can’t be certain and he doesn’t feel like checking. “Does that spawn of an owner not realize you’re missing again?”

The cat meows, paws pressing into his chest as she tries to get away from him, wanting to lie back down on the couch. Zayn doesn’t blame her, but the thing is, this isn’t her place to live, and that’s his couch, he’s quite fond of it, and he’d like to lie down on it after a long day at work.

He knocks on Harry’s door, struggling to hold the cat in his arms. “I don’t blame you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm. “I don’t like the kid either, but you’re not welcome at my house.”

“Pebbles,” Harry shouts when he opens the door, arms already spread for the cat, who dives out of Zayn’s grasp and runs past Harry, disappearing inside.

“Your cat broke into my house,” Zayn tells him.

“You should learn to close your windows,” Harry says, shrugging. “You know she gets confused about which window is hers.”

“She gets confused?” Zayn repeats, his body flaring up in annoyance. “That’s bullshit.”

“Cats aren’t accustomed to duplexes, she only knows that one half is her home, but she gets mixed up on which half,” Harry says defensively, arms folding over his chest. “Not like that loud mouthed friend of yours wasn’t banging on my door the other week looking for you.”

Zayn makes to respond but he can’t, really, because Louis does forget if Zayn’s house number is 907 or 909. But it’s different; the cat should be able to smell it out or something.

Harry seems to sense that, that Zayn doesn’t have a remark for him, which causes him to smirk. The only thing Zayn can think to do is huff at him before he turns around and stomps back into his house. He makes sure to slam the door when he gets inside, to let Harry know that even though he didn’t say anything else, he’s still annoying and a lousy, awful neighbor.

++

Zayn’s out on the back patio, head tilted back staring up at the night sky having a quick smoke before bed. He can feel the exhaustion deep in his bones, and he can’t wait to get inside and pass out on the couch. He’s not even sure he wants to try making it to his bedroom tonight. And he’s almost certain that it’s going to be a peaceful night, can feel it in the air… that is until-

“Malik,” Zayn hears and he sighs, releasing a deep breath to steady himself before he tilts his head to look at Harry, trying not to smile at him. “I’ve asked you several times not to smoke out here when you see that my windows are open, haven’t I?”

“I don’t recall,” Zayn lies, taking another drag off his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, watching as it billows out of his mouth and wraps around Harry, who does his best to wave it away.

The truth is, Harry’s told him several times. Harry tells him everyday, it was one of the first things he mentioned when Zayn moved in. He had asked for his name, then if he smoked, when he said that he did Harry promptly listed off a bunch of rules, like how Zayn has to clean up the butts, can’t just leave them on their shared ground, another that said how Zayn couldn’t toss them in the grass and leave them there. Harry was not going to have their lawn be polluted by cigarettes. And finally, he asked that Zayn please not smoke when he has his windows open, because the smell bothers him.

Zayn listened for all of a week, until he found one of Harry’s friends drunk, naked, and peeing on Zayn’s lawn chair in the back. It was the final straw, really, the thing that opened the floodgates, if you will. Zayn stopped listening to Harry’s requests, and Harry spent more and more time lecturing him, trying to force Zayn into following his rules, like he could boss Zayn around just because their houses are connected in the middle.

Harry breathes out deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So you don’t remember two days ago?” Harry asks, pulling his hand away to look at Zayn, who shakes his head, taking another drag. “You’re full of shit.”

“And you’re on my side of the deck, without permission,” Zayn points out, motioning towards the tape line that Harry put down, the one his fat foot is currently standing on.

“Well, we’re having a conversation.”

“Doesn’t mean you can over step the boundary that you put down, does it?”

Harry groans, taking a step back. “There. Are you happy?”

“I’d be happier if you went inside, actually.”

“I’m not going inside,” Harry tells him, hands on his hips, defiant. “But you are going to put that out.”

Zayn looks at him, eyebrows raised as he brings the cigarette to his lips, inhaling, and pulling it away. If it were possible, steam would be coming out Harry’s ears, because he’s livid now, not just annoyed. Zayn can see the line of Harry’s shoulders tighten, his eyes narrow, but Zayn’s not going to give in. He’s allowed to do what he wants on his side; he can’t help what the air does.

“Why are you such a miserable twat?” Harry asks, and Zayn can’t help but laugh.

“I’m not the one outside at eleven at night, going off about what someone should or shouldn’t be doing. That’s you, mate,” Zayn says, stubbing his cigarette out on the ground before he flicks it in the little trash container Harry bought for him. “I’d say you’re the miserable twat. Night, Harry.”

Zayn steps inside his house, closing his back door before Harry can say anything else. He really, really doesn’t want to hear it.

As Zayn drops down on his couch, he can faintly hear the sounds of Harry slamming his windows closed and Zayn laughs, because at least he’s not the only one stuck slamming something around tonight.

++

When Zayn wakes up the next morning, it’s to a sound that can only be described as a wail coming from outside his door. It’s loud, unrelenting, and Zayn groans, because not even a pillow pressed over his ears helps. The sound just will not stop, it only gets louder, more urgent and annoying.

Obviously it’s Harry. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s trying to get back at him for last night.

Zayn sits up slowly, rubbing at his face, trying his best to wake up before he goes outside to deal with Harry. He should get some coffee first, maybe grab a bagel or something before he commits to stepping outside and arguing at— Zayn grabs his phone off the table and sees that it’s a quarter after eight.

God, he thinks, rubbing his face once more. He’s going to call his landlord today and see what he can do about breaking the lease. He’d rather be fined than listen to whatever it is that is making that noise.

Finally, after a few more minutes of staring angrily at his wall, he gets up, following the sound, listening to it grows louder and louder.

And the thing is, Zayn really wasn’t prepared to see a baby on his porch. He just. He really wasn’t, because here is this child, who is probably a year old sitting in a car seat screaming, thrashing around, trying her absolute best to release herself from its restraints. She cries harder when she sees Zayn, arms extended for him.

The baby is cute, small but round in everyway. Her arms and exposed legs are covered in rolls, her cheeks puffy and cute. Through the screams Zayn can make out blue eyes. There are thick tufts of blonde hair on her head, standing in disarray. He thinks she’s a she. He’s not sure, it’s a baby, so it doesn’t matter, he supposes.

Zayn glances around, checking to see if anyone is watching, because this has to be a joke. It has to be some kind of prank or something. There is no way that someone would leave a child on his porch. That’s just—not possible. And it is on his side, so it was definitely meant for him. And it would be wrong of him to push the baby over on Harry’s side, knock on Harry’s door and wait for Harry to find her.

Zayn’s seen Harry with small children and babies knows that all of his friends bring them over to him on the weekends to watch, knows the random kids in the neighborhood wave excitedly when they see Harry outside.

It’s annoying, how much everyone loves Harry when Zayn has to deal with the devilish side of him, but it’s also sad that everyone else is being swayed by a wide smile and long curls, such a shame.

The baby screams again and Zayn really has no other choice, because he can’t just leave the baby outside with the sun beating down on her. He bends down slowly, unbuckling her and hoping that he’s not being filmed for some kind of television show.

++

Screaming is all that this baby knows how to do, is the thing. And panicking is all that Zayn knows how to do. It’s not a very good mix, like oil and water. Even she seems to know that, because she stands against Zayn’s couch, her face pressed into the cushion as she wails, looking up every once in a while so Zayn can see how red her cheeks are, can see the tears pooling in her eyes and rolling down her plump cheeks.

It’s not fair, this emotional manipulation.

Zayn’s been researching for the last hour, trying to figure out how exactly you feed someone that’s only been alive for maybe a year and some change. All he can find is that she should be eating table foods, and he’s provided a long list of allowed foods and fruits and vegetables. There is also a list of favorites, foods that even picky eaters love.

“Are you a picky eater?” Zayn asks, getting nothing more than a scream in response, but it’s cut off choked as she coughs it out. “Alright, well. How do you feel about bananas?”

Unfortunately, the only kind of banana that Zayn has is brown and bruised, and he’s not even sure how long they’ve been there. A small part of him screams in protest when he realizes that he needs to go grocery shopping, but worst of all, right now he needs to cross the tapeline to Harry’s place to see if he could loan him a banana or two.

It’s not for him, he tells himself, as he tries in vain to find something decent enough for a baby in his cabinets. He’s doing this for someone else, someone else that is screaming at him from the doorway of his kitchen, having followed him into the next room.

“You can walk,” Zayn mutters, great. Wonderful. Excellent. There is a walking baby in his kitchen, a properly wailing, walking baby in his kitchen. “Do you think you can wait here for a second?” He asks, nodding when the baby cries in response. Right, of course she can.

For safety reasons, though, Zayn pulls the four chairs from his kitchen table around her, trapping her in the center like one of those baby cages that parents buy, the ones that kids take naps in or play in. It’s makeshift, though, obviously. And when he’s sure that she’s not going anywhere, he takes a deep breath and heads towards Harry’s house, walking the three feet from his door to the one next door.

Knocking, Zayn tries to listen to the sounds from inside Harry’s apartment; he can’t hear anything besides the screaming child in his own, but Harry’s car is parked in the drive, so he knows that he’s home.

“Harry,” Zayn shouts, fist banging on the door. “Open the fucking door.”

Zayn continues banging on it until Harry swings the door open, eyes reduced to slits.

“What do you want?” Harry spits out, glaring at him. His hair is rumpled, shirt on backwards, an obvious sign that he’d been sleeping.

“I need a banana. Do you have a banana?”

“You’re banging on my door for a banana?” Harry asks, folding his arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. There’s an ear-piercing scream from inside Zayn’s apartment and Harry perks up, eyes going wide. “Is that a baby?”

“Yes, that’s why I came here,” Zayn says, sighing. “I need help.”

“One second,” Harry says, turning and walking away. Zayn leans to the side, trying to look into Harry’s apartment to see what’s happening, but then Harry’s back, two bananas in his hand. He shoves past Zayn and marches straight into Zayn’s house, like he owns the place.

Zayn follows behind him, shutting Harry’s door for him.

“Why is she locked up?” Harry asks, shoving the chairs aside. “Aw, pretty girl.”

“I was going to get a banana from you, I didn’t want her to go anywhere,” Zayn says. “It’s not like I have a cage for her.”

Harry’s eyes go wide, his mouth dropping open. “You don’t cage a baby.”

“Those mesh ones, the…the cages parents put them in. I don’t have one.”

“Those are called playpens, they’re not cages,” Harry shoots back, rolling his eyes. “Who in their right mind would give you a baby? You trapped her in a bunch of chairs…Are you out of your mind?” Harry shakes his head, taking a seat in one of the chairs and peeling a banana, the baby seems to like that, because she stops crying, mouth opening wide to try and take a bite out of it. “Are you going to explain what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn sighs, fingers raking through his hair. “Someone left her here.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No,” Zayn groans, because he’s already said that. “I woke up and heard someone being loud; I thought it was you being an asshole, again.”

Harry’s woken him up countless times before, with music, inviting friends over and being obnoxiously loud on the porch. Zayn can’t think of a time where he hasn’t woken up to the sound of Harry’s something, whether it’s his voice, his car, his friends.

“But when I opened the door, it was definitely her, not you.”

“And you didn’t see anyone?” Harry asks, looking like he doesn’t believe Zayn. And it sounds ridiculous, he knows, but there is no other story.

“Someone left her here, like—like they wanted me to have her,” Zayn says, shrugging. “She doesn’t look like anyone that I know.”

Harry nods, peeling back the banana and tearing a little piece off to feed the baby. He watches her for a minute and Zayn watches him, because as much as he hates seeing Harry in his house, he needs him right now. He needs someone with a semblance of an idea on what you’re supposed to do when a baby is dropped off on your doorstep.

“You have to go to the store,” Harry tells him, eyes still on the child. “I can smell that she needs diapers. We can check what kind; they usually have numbers on the front to indicate size. Then you’ll have to get formula and bottles, because she’s probably still on those, at least for bedtime reasons. And then you’ll have to get food, the kind we eat and stuff. I’ll make a list.”

Zayn groans, rubbing at his face. He drops down in the chair across from Harry, because this is insane. “If you know what you’re doing, you go and get it.”

“And leave her here with you? So you can lock her up again?” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “I think I’ll pass.”

Zayn rolls his eyes back. “I did that so she wouldn’t get into anything, she’ll be fine with me. I promise.”

++

Zayn’s house looks like an episode of Hoarders. He has to keep the baby firmly in his grasp as he watches Harry unload all of the bags in abject horror. It looks like Harry wants to turn Zayn’s house into a baby store. There’s so much stuff. So many things that Zayn’s never seen before in his life.

“What did you do?” Zayn says, stepping over a pile of frilly dresses. “Buy the entire shop? I thought you went to get food and diapers. What is all this shit?”

“Excuse me; you’re holding a child, Zayn. Watch your language.”

Zayn grits his teeth, breathing out a deep breath. “She doesn’t know what I’m saying. Just like she doesn’t know what you’re doing here with all this stuff.”

“God, you’re so dense,” Harry mutters, shaking his head. “You need these things to raise a child.”

Zayn wants to say that he’s not planning on raising anything. Whoever left this baby on his front steps had obviously only needed someone to watch her. Whoever left the baby is probably going through a rough patch, and needed to be at a job interview. Or, maybe whoever left the baby is just an ass and wanted to see how far they could push Zayn. Like Harry and one of his idiot friends, probably the blond. The blond is always trying to have a laugh at things that are not funny, like dumping babies on doorsteps.

“Zayn, are you even listening?” Harry says, exasperated.

“What?”

Harry shakes his head, rolling his eyes at him. “Of course you weren’t,” he mutters. “I said that I got diapers. I had an employee help me guess what size. We’ll need to change her immediately; otherwise she’ll get a rash. It’s been ages since she’s been changed. And I got clothes; babies go through a ton of clothing.”

“But they’re always growing, so wouldn’t it be better to just give her a couple options?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Harry says smiling, reaching out for the baby. Zayn hands her over easily enough; his arm is killing him. Harry makes a face at her, eyes crossing and puffing his cheeks out. She squeals, clapping her hands together. Harry takes her and kneels down on the floor, ripping open a box of diapers.

“You’re just going to do that right here… In my living room, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Harry says, voice eye as he smiles at the baby. “This pretty girl needs her butt changed. She smells like a farm.”

“Wonderful. That’s excellent,” Zayn sighs, dropping down on the couch. He rubs at his face, hoping that Harry knows what he’s doing and there won’t be a mess all over the floor.

“Don’t be an ass, Zayn. She’s only a baby,” Harry says, shaking his head. “You could make yourself useful and start unpacking things. You’re going to have to figure out where to put her things. And then we’ll need to build her cage,” Harry says, fixing Zayn with a look.

He’s hilarious. If Zayn didn’t feel like his world was falling apart beneath his feet then he would laugh. A mock laugh, not a real one, because it’s not actually funny. There’s a baby being changed in his living room, one that he’s supposed to take care of. Possibly live with, if he goes off Harry’s reaction.

There’s a crashing sound and Zayn whips his head around in time to see Pebbles crawling in through the window, slinking across the floor before the damn animal jumps on the couch.

“Oh great, you’re both here.”

Harry snorts, shaking his head as he stands the baby up, smiling at her and watching her toddle off. “She probably heard my voice through the window. I told you to start closing it. It’s not my fault that she broke in, she missed me.”

Zayn makes a note of two things. The first thing is that he’s going to nail the window shut. The other thing is that he’s going to move. It’s really the only thing left to do. He’ll just take the baby and run.

++

“She needs a name,” Harry says, head titled to the side.

“She has a name,” Zayn answers, eyes on the television. “And shouldn’t you be at home? She’s napping. I have everything I need.”

Harry snorts, propping his feet up on Zayn’s table. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, then you should know that she has a name,” Zayn informs him, kicking Harry’s feet down. “Don’t make yourself at home. It’s bad enough that your cat is drinking out of my glass.” Zayn watches the cat; Pebble’s paw dunked in the glass before she pulls it out and licks the droplets off, staring at Zayn. It’s direct eye contact, like she’s challenging him to stop her.

Zayn’s not going to fight a cat.

“If she has a name then what is it?”

Zayn scratches at his chin, feeling the hair rub against his knuckles as he tries to think of a counter-statement. Everyone has a name is what he wants to say, but the baby can’t talk, so it’s not like she’s going to scream at them when she gets annoyed with Zayn for calling her baby.

“We should call her Isabella,” Harry says. “Izzy for short, since everyone needs a nickname.”

“Yeah? What’s mine?”

“Jack ass,” Harry says without missing a beat, his feet moving back onto the table. He grins at Zayn, right before he snatches the remote out of his hand and starts flipping through the channels.

++

Dinner with Baby goes well enough, Zayn thinks. Harry nearly has a stroke when he finds that Zayn’s cabinets are bare. And Zayn can’t help but laugh, bouncing Baby in his arms and watching as Harry storms out of his house, muttering under his breath about how he has to provide for the baby and now Zayn. But when he comes back, Harry makes them something simple, pancakes with chunks of fruit in the mix. (One of the recipes they found online for tricking your child into eating the foods you want).

Zayn gives Harry full control of bath time, but he refuses to give him full access to his house, which is why he has to follow him around. It’s during Baby’s bath that Zayn realizes Harry is much better with children than he is. Zayn’s not awful, but there are things that he doesn’t know, things that he would have figured out over time, but not on his first night of having Baby in his house.

“Do you know where Rosa is going to sleep?” Harry asks, carefully buttoning her pale yellow onesie. Baby is kicking her legs around, trying to fight Harry while Zayn dances the orange bear Harry bought her above her head, trying to distract her.

“Weren’t you calling her Izzy this morning?”

“Didn’t really suit her,” Harry tells him, doing the button under her chin. “You have to give them a name that feels right, you know? Izzy just wasn’t working.”

“And Rosa is?”

Harry shrugs. “I’m undecided.”

Zayn nods, taking Baby off the makeshift changing table (his dresser) and holding her in his arms, handing her the bear. Zayn refuses to call her anything. Names are what you give things – people, animals, and inanimate objects – when you intend to keep them.

Zayn’s still positive that someone will be coming back for Baby, that’s why he’s going to call her that. Less confusing for everyone, really.

“You read to her while I make a bottle,” Harry says, rushing off before Zayn can say anything.

“Did you hear that? I’m going to read you a story,” Zayn says to her, voice high as he bounces her on his hip. She babbles something in response, fingers splayed as she waves her hand around, rambling in baby talk.

They get through an entire story about a rabbit when Harry comes in, shaking a bottle in his hands that makes Baby squirm in Zayn’s arms, letting out a series of whines as she thrashes around, wanting the bottle, obviously.

“Do we just put her in her cage with that?” Zayn asks, frowning at Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes, passing Baby the bottle. “For the last time, it’s not a cage. It might look like one, but it’s a playpens. And no, I’m going to shut the light off, you’re going to wait until that bottle is finished – she’ll probably be asleep by then – and then you’re going to put her down in there,” he points towards the playpen next to Zayn’s bed, “and she’ll be fine.”

“Bottle then cage, got it,” Zayn says, watching as Harry takes a deep breath. He doesn’t say anything, just turns on his heel and storms out of Zayn’s room. He flips the light switch harder than he should have, but with Baby in Zayn’s arms, he’s forced to close the door slowly.

Zayn tries not to smile smugly.

++

“What exactly are you doing?” Zayn asks, watching Harry spread a sheet on top of his couch. “No. No, no, no. What are you doing?”

It looks as though Harry is trying to make himself a place to sleep, which is weird because Zayn’s fairly positive that Harry’s bedroom is just a few feet away. Maybe one hundred feet away, if he were to be very generous with his guess. Zayn could turn around and retrace his steps to his own bedroom to know for certain.

“I can’t leave you alone with Rosa,” Harry says, like it’s obvious. And yeah, so he is doing what Zayn thinks he is. “You’ve barely done anything with her all day. I had to shop for her, I’ve had to change her diaper, and I’ve had to cook for her, clean for her. What have you done?”

Zayn’s not going to dignify that with an answer, because it’s laced with an insult that he’s just not going to listen to. He won’t hear it. So instead he says, “So you’re sleeping at my house because you’re a control freak?”

“No, I’m sleeping at your house because you need the help.”

“You’re not sleeping here,” Zayn says, shaking his head. He stomps towards the door as quietly as he can, yanking it open. “I’ll ring your bell if I need you.”

“No you won’t, because I’ll be here.”

“No you won’t.”

“I will, actually.”

“I’ll call the police,” Zayn threatens, glaring at Harry.

“And tell them what? Hmm?” Harry says, putting a pillow on the couch. It’s one that he got from the closet and it drives Zayn crazy to know that Harry went snooping around his house while he was putting Baby to sleep. “Are you going to tell them that I’m here because you’ve magically acquired a baby? How do you think the cops will enjoy that?”

Zayn stares at him, breathing deeply. He wants to smack the smirk off Harry’s face and then throw him out, him and the cat. God, even Pebbles is looking at him smugly, like she found the answer to this herself.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just closes the door and walks past Harry. “I’d rather you weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I’m sure that’s the case, and trust me, I feel the same way, but I’m still not leaving.”

“God, you’re such a pain in the ass.”

“Likewise, darling. Except I don’t walk around and pretend to be cool, pretend like I’m more important than I am. Like I’m hot fucking shit.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Zayn asks, laughing lightly just to irritate Harry. “That’s your interpretation of me. That doesn’t have shit to do with how I actually am.”

“Yeah? So you got that nose stud for what? Aesthetics?”

“Yeah, actually. I thought it looked cool.”

“Exactly,” Harry says loudly, clapping his hands together like he figured it all out.

“Exactly what?”

“You think you’re cool,” Harry says, dropping down on Zayn’s couch. He grins at him and it’s irritating that Zayn has to stop himself from jumping across the room and wiping it off his face for him.

“Whatever,” Zayn mutters, rolling his eyes as he moves out of the room. He’s not tired, but there’s no way that he’s going sit out here and listen to Harry whine about whatever bullshit is stirring around in his head. Zayn rubs at his nose subconsciously, fingers shifting the metal around. Fuck Harry and his…his guesses on why Zayn does anything.

++

The next morning Harry is exactly where Zayn told him not to be, sprawled out on his couch with his mouth wide open. Pebbles is lying on his chest, green eyes opening in annoyance to glare at Zayn.

He shakes his head as he walks past them, stepping out onto the back patio for a morning smoke. Zayn needs something to settle his nerves, the ache in his bones from being on edge all night. He found himself waking up randomly, wanting to check on Baby to make sure she hadn’t wrapped the blanket around her face, to check and see that she was still sleeping, and to make sure that she was still there, that whoever left her hadn’t taken her in the night.

Zayn hopes that if and when they come and get her that they don’t do it in the middle of the night. He’d like to say goodbye, at the very least.

Zayn’s just starting to relax when his back door slams open, revealing a sleep rumpled Harry, frowning down at him with hands on his hips.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Harry breathes out, eyes squinted from the sunlight. He doesn’t look threatening at all, standing there wearing only one sock and his hair matted down on one side. “I told you not to smoke when a window is open.”

“You said not to smoke when your window is open, you never mentioned mine.”

“Well, you’re going to stop,” Harry says, snatching the pack away from Zayn. He yanks it open and starts snapping cigarettes in half, glaring at Zayn as he does it.

“The hell are you doing?” Zayn shouts, stubbing his out and trying to stop Harry. “I paid for those.”

“You paid for cancer,” Harry corrects, stomping down on the pile he’s just tore up. “And you can’t smoke anymore. There’s a baby here. Olivia doesn’t need to be around that, because not only is it unhealthy for you, but also it’s super unhealthy for her. Her lungs are brand new, why do you want to ruin them?”

“She’s in my bedroom, she’s not near it,” Zayn says, shaking his head. “And who the fuck is Olivia? Last night she was Rosa.”

“Well, I’ve decided I don’t like Rosa anymore,” Harry replies, shrugging. “And I’m near it. I have asthma.”

Zayn rubs at his face, trying not to have this argument once more. It’s half eight in the morning, he’s still tired. He hasn’t had any food. He hasn’t even had a decent night’s sleep. He needs to be rested to argue with Harry, because it’s so exhausting. They’ve had this discussion before.

“No one is forcing you to be here, Harry. You’re more than welcome to go back to your place, take your cat, and shut your fucking windows,” Zayn tells him.

Harry glares at him, releasing a deep breath. Harry’s response is cut off by the sound of Baby’s crying, filtering out through the open window. She sounds upset, and probably hungry, if Zayn had to guess.

“I’m going to get Olivia, you should shower. You’re not allowed to hold her when you smell like an ashtray,” Harry tells him, turning his nose up at him.

++

“No. Well, you see the thing is, I can’t make it into work today,” Harry is saying into the phone when Zayn enters the room, hair damp from the shower he’s just had. He gives Harry a look when he takes a seat in front of Baby, one that says ‘are you happy now?’

“Did you sleep alright, Baby?” Zayn asks, resting his head down on the table. She smiles at him, head cocked to the side as she slaps her hand into the pile of peaches Harry has in front of her. “Do you think I could have one?”

Harry slaps his hand away from Baby’s food, glaring at him before he drops a plate of pancakes in front of Zayn. Leftovers, wonderful.

“Well, it is an emergency,” Harry says. “I didn’t have a baby last week, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a baby now. A lot of people end up in this same situation. If I were lying don’t you think I’d come up with a better excuse?”

Zayn frowns at Baby because Harry is trying to take off work to spend time with her. He’s trying to take off work so that he’ll be inside of Zayn’s house all day long. On Zayn’s day off. No, Zayn thinks, shaking his head. He won’t allow it.

“Go to work,” Zayn tells him, interrupting Harry’s pleas.

“Hold on a second, Mary,” Harry says, pulling the phone away from his ear and pressing it to his chest. “What did you say?”

“I said go to work. We’ll be fine without you. Baby and I can make it.”

“You just want me to leave so that way you can lock the door and I’ll never see Ava again.”

Zayn chooses to ignore the name change once more in favor of saying, “You still need to make a living. You’ve bought all that stuff for her yesterday, so go to work. We’ll be fine.”

Harry bites his lip and studies Zayn carefully, watching Baby as she bounces in her seat, shoveling peaches into her mouth for a minute before he sighs, pulling the phone back against his ear.

++

Taking care of the baby alone is actually fairly easy, much easier than he thought it would be when he watched Harry rush out of his house with a worried look on his face.

The hardest part of watching Baby is keeping her out of everything that he owns, like the cleaning products under the sink, or from yanking all of the clothes out of his drawers. But it’s not too bad; Baby just laughs at him and runs off, squealing at the top of her lungs.

“You’re a wild one,” Zayn huffs out, panting slightly. He’s not used to this much physical activity. He’s used to relaxing on his days off, not chasing a child and trying to keep her entertained. “But you don’t talk much? How come you don’t talk?”

Baby gurgles at him, snatching the remote off the couch. She walks towards the television, pointing it towards the screen.

“Oh, so you like watching TV,” Zayn says, nodding. “I wish you could talk, though. Then you could tell me who your mama was…or your dada…or whatever you called them. Is that what you had? A mama and a dada?”

“Mama mama,” Baby says, grinning at Zayn. “Mama.”

“Good. Okay, now we’re onto something. Did you have a dada?”

“Mama.”

“Say dada. I know you have a mama. Did you have a dada?”

“Mama.”

“I’m going to assume that means you didn’t have a father, but correct me if I’m wrong, please,” Zayn says, pausing for a moment to see what Baby does. She doesn’t do anything, just stares at him. “That’s fine. Do you know if your Mama is coming back?”

Baby mumbles something, some kind of baby gibberish that Zayn doesn’t understand, but she does shake her head and points her finger to Zayn, shaking it as well.

“Does that mean no?”

Baby shakes her finger some more and Zayn nods, because that definitely means no.

“Well, not a problem because so far we’re having fun, right? You’re having fun with me?”

Baby mumbles some more and then runs off, throwing the remote. She trips, luckily enough, so Zayn’s able to grab her, scooping her up in his arms and tickling her while she squeals in happiness.

Zayn’s phone begins to vibrate on the table, an incessant noise that startles Baby, her eyes going wide as she looks around for what’s causing it.

“Unknown number,” Zayn mumbles, wondering if he should answer it. He doesn’t usually answer these, but the area code is the same, so it could be someone he knows and not some random telemarketer, or a person wanting to discuss the upcoming elections with him. Zayn figures it wouldn’t hurt; it could be Baby’s mother.

“Hello?”

“Zayn, how’s Jasmine?”

Definitely not Baby’s mother. It’s Harry; one of the people that Zayn is fairly confident has never been given his number a day in his life, which makes this call all the more weird, in Zayn’s opinion.

“This morning she was Olivia and Ava, now she’s Jasmine?” Zayn sighs, rubbing at his temple.

“Yeah, I met a customer today and her name was Jasmine, and it’s so beautiful, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re out of your mind,” Zayn tells him honestly, no one goes through baby names like this. Unless they’re expecting a child, then it’s fairly normal. “And how did you get my number?”

“I used your phone while you were eating to call mine. I wanted to make sure that I could call and find out about my girl. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Zayn tells him, rolling his eyes. “We’ve already had lunch and now we’re burning up all of our energy so that we can take an afternoon nap.”

Zayn smiles at Baby, watching as she reaches a hand out to rub against the stud in his nose. She looks interested and while Zayn is worried she might rip it out, he tries to turn it into a game, moving his mouth around like he’s going to bite her hand. She laughs, head dropping to her shoulder as she giggles, wiggling her finger around in his face.

“It’s very important that she naps.”

Zayn rolls his eyes once more, because Harry told him this before he left. He gave him a list of foods that were safe and appropriate to feed her, and then he told Zayn about a morning and afternoon nap. One that takes place a few hours after she’s woken, before lunch, while the other is a little while after, when she begins to get fussy.

“She’ll nap,” Zayn promises. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I’m on my lunch break. I just wanted to check in,” Harry says and Zayn nods, making a silly face at Baby. “I get off at five, but I’ll grab dinner before I get there. I have stuff at my house, but your cabinets are atrocious, so.”

“Well, we look forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sure you do,” Harry says. “Give Jas a big kiss for me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Zayn says before he hangs up, tossing his phone onto the couch. “He’s never going to leave me alone thanks to you,” Zayn tells her and Baby screams, clapping her hands together in delight, like there is nothing better in the world than having Zayn and Harry together.

++

Harry doesn’t knock when he enters Zayn’s house, just shoves his way inside, arms full of bags from wherever he stopped for dinner. He also let’s Pebbles inside, which is really giving the cat the impression that she’s welcome here. Zayn has to count backwards from ten so that he doesn’t say something rude to Harry about it, because this really isn’t his house. And while Zayn knew he was going to be stopping by, he didn’t expect Harry to let himself in. They didn’t discuss that.

“I brought some things home from the bakery,” Harry tells him, brushing past Zayn on his way to the kitchen, dropping the bags down on the table. “Just a few things to eat for breakfast and…whenever. I grabbed Chinese takeout. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but luckily we order from the same place and the guy remembered.”

“Thanks, I’m starving.”

“Wouldn’t be if you ever went to the store,” Harry mumbles, smiling at him. It’s condescending. Zayn knows it is. “Where is Jasmine?”

Baby answers with a bang as she yanks one of Zayn’s pots from out of the cabinet. She glances at the pair of them, her eyes open wide in fear, but Zayn smiles at her and she relaxes, squealing in delight.

“Oh there’s my angel,” Harry says, grinning widely as he walks across the kitchen for her. “Did you have a good day? Did Zayn treat you well?”

“I treated her fine.”

Harry looks at him skeptically and says, “What did she have for lunch?”

“Strawberries and sweet potatoes.”

“How long did she nap for?”

“She took an hour and a half one this morning and then she just woke up thirty minutes ago from a two hour one,” Zayn recites, rolling his eyes. “She’s probably hungry.”

“Ah,” Harry mutters, lifting Baby up. “Luckily I thought ahead, since Jas can’t have Chinese food.” He digs around through one of his bags and pulls out a tiny little bowl of pasta, at least that’s what Zayn thinks it is. “I stopped at the store and got this from one of those ready made sections. It’s not the best for her, but like, we haven’t done any proper grocery shopping yet so it’ll have to do.”

Zayn wonders briefly if he can con Harry into going grocery shopping for him. It’d be nice, that’s for sure, to have someone else shell out money on things that are going to slowly disappear over the next two weeks. God, Harry would be a saint if the did that. But he’s not going to test his luck, not yet.

“Mary told me everything we need to know about a baby of her age,” Harry says, moving around Zayn’s kitchen with ease. It’s a bit alarming how well he knows his way around the room, knows which drawers to pull open, which cabinets hold what. He even knows how you to have to smack the knob on the microwave to get it working properly. It sends an eerie chill up Zayn’s spine. He hopes that Harry’s never spent the day in his house like his pesky cat has. “Anyway, and then she said that it’s important to make sure we keep Jasmine’s iron content up, because babies can get anemic so easily. Mary is smart, so I trust her. That’s why I got the pasta with the spinach and chicken bits.”

“Too much iron is also dangerous,” Zayn points out, watching as Harry’s face drops.

“Why are you always so negative?”

“I’m not being negative.”

“You just implied that I could kill her.”

Zayn blanks, shaking his head, because “What?”

“You heard me,” Harry mutters, standing in front of the microwave with his hands on his hips. “You’re being negative, and Jasmine and I would appreciate it if you stopped.”

“Whatever,” Zayn says, standing up quickly and heading outside. He hasn’t had a cigarette all day, and he was doing a damn good job of avoiding them, until Harry came home. Now Zayn thinks he might not make it the rest of the night if he doesn’t smoke at least one, just to take the nervous edge off. That’s all.

++

“She needs a name,” Harry says, rubbing Baby’s back. She’s fast asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, chubby cheek smushed and adorable looking. Zayn’s kind of jealous, if he’s being honest. Not of her, of course not, but of Harry. He wants to hold her as she sleeps wants to hold onto her.

“I thought she was Jasmine?” Zayn says idly, still staring at Baby.

“It doesn’t suit her. The energy coming off that customer doesn’t match Mia.”

“I don’t like Mia.”

Harry sighs, rolling his eyes. “Alright, what about Alexandra?”

“No.”

“Ariana?”

Zayn looks up at Harry, shaking his head once more. “Why does she even need a name?” He asks. He’s perfectly happy calling her Baby. She’s a baby and she’s cute, Baby works.

“Zayn, everyone needs a name. We have to name her something.”

“Well, all your suggestions are awful.”

Harry’s eyes narrow and he huffs out a breath before he stands, moving carefully to not disturb Baby as he gets up off the couch.

“Where are you going?” Zayn asks, watching as he navigates around the room, grabbing the baby’s blanket and her stuffed bear, doing everything besides looking at Zayn.

“You’re being rude,” Harry tells him, still not looking at him. “I’m taking Camilla and going in the other room. You can stay here and maybe think about how you should talk to people. She doesn’t need to hear this, Zayn. Honestly.” Harry sighs, shaking his head before he storms out of the room and into Zayn’s bedroom.

He’s going to Zayn’s bedroom with Baby. He’s locking himself away in a house that doesn’t belong to him, with a child that’s not even his, while Zayn is left alone with Harry’s cat.

Zayn rubs at his forehead, because how did this become his life?

++

It’s annoying that Zayn feels guilty about rejecting all of Harry’s name suggestions. It’s annoying that Zayn would raid his freezer for his stash of ice cream as a peace offering. But yet, here he is, scooping ice cream into two different bowls. There’s not even a promise that Harry will come back out tonight, but Zayn’s going to try. He has to offer him some kind of apology.

Zayn still thinks that it’s stupid to try and give Baby a name. She already has one, it’s just a matter of time before her mother comes back to collect her. Zayn’s thought about it, and he’s thoroughly convinced that it’s only a matter of days. Baby’s mother simply needed a babysitter and it’s not a forever situation, so a name isn’t needed.

But despite how he feels about a name, he was a little bit of an ass to Harry about it, hence the ice cream. International peace offering and all that.

When he’s packing the carton into the trash bin, making a mental note to take it out to the curb before bed, Harry comes stumbling into the kitchen. He has his nose upturned, ignoring Zayn completely as he helps himself to a glass of water. Zayn sighs, swallowing a bit of his pride.

“I made you ice cream,” Zayn says, watching as Harry eyes the bowls over the rim of his glass. He shrugs nonchalantly, like he’s unimpressed. “It’s chocolate and it comes with an apology.”

Harry looks at Zayn for a moment, setting his glass down on the counter before he picks up one of the bowls. He takes the one with less ice cream, like Zayn hoped he would, and sits down at the table with it. “I’m listening,” Harry tells him, glancing up at Zayn with an eyebrow raised.

“So I guess that I owe you an apology,” Zayn says, sitting beside him.

“You guess?”

“Well, I do owe you an apology for being an ass about your name suggestions. It wasn’t really something to get annoyed about,” Zayn says with a shrug. “I still think it’s a bad idea, but I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” Harry says, wrapping his lips around his spoon for a bite. “But you were a massive asshole about it.”

“I don’t think she needs a name, is all.”

“Everyone needs a name.”

“Baby doesn’t.”

“Baby does, actually,” Harry says.

Zayn sighs, shaking his head. He drops his spoon in the bowl, because he’s going to need a moment for this. A moment uninterrupted by a mouthful of ice cream. “Why did you name Pebbles?”

“Why did I name her Pebbles?”

“No, why did you name her?”

“Because she’s my cat,” Harry says, looking at Zayn like there’s something wrong with him. There might be, actually, but not about this.

“No, you named her because you intended to keep her. And because you cared about her, because she was yours, but Baby isn’t ours,” Zayn explains, because honestly, why doesn’t Harry get this? Why does Harry have to make everything so complicated? “Besides, I’m not sure her mother will appreciate her having a new name when she comes to get her.”

Harry looks at Zayn for a brief moment before he shakes his head, almost sadly. He sighs deeply and all Zayn can do is shrug and take another bite of ice cream.

“If anyone had any intentions of keeping her then they wouldn’t have abandoned her, that’s not—People don’t do that to kids they want,” Harry says carefully and Zayn stops, spoon held just in front of his lips. “If anyone was coming back for her they’d have already done it by now.”

“Well,” Zayn mutters, taken aback by Harry’s words. He’s not in denial about what’s happening. He’s not. The look Harry is giving him makes it seem like he is but he really, really isn’t. It’s just—He has a baby now. Kind of. “She’s still going to be called Baby.”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “I’m going to call her Rena.” He grins at Zayn around a spoonful of ice cream, nodding his head to show that he’s serious. And Zayn has to bite his tongue against his remark, the one that tells Harry at least his naming is consistent and doesn’t change every five minutes.

++

Zayn wakes up in the middle of the night to a quiet shushing sound and a weight next to his feet. It’s heavy and radiating warmth, which tells him it’s not one of his pillows. Zayn almost ignores it. Almost. Until he hears Baby let out a cry, then he’s jerked fully awake. When his eyes finally focus he sees that there’s someone in his room, someone holding Baby.

It takes far longer than it should for Zayn to realize that it’s Harry sitting at the foot of his bed.

Zayn stares at him, because he almost gave Zayn a fucking heart attack, thank you very much. He thought someone was kidnapping Baby, or was going to take her and then steal all of his things. His heart is racing, and not even the soothing noises Harry’s emitting for Baby are helping to calm him down.

“Sorry I woke you,” Harry whispers, standing up so that he can rock Baby back to sleep. “I tripped in the hall and I think that woke her up.”

Zayn hums, dropping back down so that he can stare up at the ceiling, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

“I’m going to make her a bottle, go back to sleep. I’ll take care of her,” Harry says, patting Zayn’s ankle on his way out of the room.

Zayn stares up at his ceiling some more, eyes blinking heavily with Harry’s permission to sleep. Zayn wonders if there’s ever a moment where people finally reach acceptance of the fact that they have someone else living in their house. In Zayn’s case it’s two someone’s, three if you count the damn cat.

Zayn falls asleep to the quiet sound of Harry singing to Baby in the other room, his body relaxing entirely.

++

Waking up the second time isn’t as scary as it was before, but Zayn feels a flare of annoyance. It’s not because Zayn can hear Pebbles outside meowing (a sign that Harry closed the windows without checking where his cat was) and it’s not because Baby is snoring (which is just a bit adorable). No, it’s not her snoring that’s bothersome, not in the slightest. It’s Harry’s.

Even more specifically it’s Harry, whose head is resting on Zayn’s thigh as he sleeps. His mouth is wide open, a truly atrocious noise spilling out of his parted lips. Baby is in his arms, her head just next to Zayn’s knee. Which would have been nice to know before he stretched his leg and knocked into her. Luckily she doesn’t wake, just continues sleeping.

Zayn tries to maneuver out of bed in the best way that he can, carefully sliding his body upwards so that his leg slides away from Baby. The problem is that Harry’s using his leg as a pillow, making it nearly impossible for Zayn to get up without waking him, which is exactly what happens. He pulls his leg out from underneath Harry and Harry blinks awake, choking on a snore as he glances around the room curiously. He lets out a tired groan and stretches, arms held high in the air.

Zayn waits until he’s finished before he grabs him, pulling him into a sit and motioning for Harry to follow him.

This is not how he wanted to wake up; this is not how he imagined waking up, with Harry being in his bed. Being in his bed without his permission, like he was welcome in it. It’s bad enough that Harry won’t leave his apartment but now he’s trying to take over Zayn’s bed, like he doesn’t have his own.

“We need to establish some rules,” Zayn says, pacing in his living room. “Some boundaries because this is getting out of hand.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry mumbles out around a yawn, rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m talking about the fact that there are boundaries and you’re crossing every imaginary line possible, Harry.”

“With what?”

“My house,” Zayn grits out. “You’re walking into my house like it’s yours; you’re going through my things. You used my damn shower last night. Your cat has become a permanent fixture on my sofa and you stalk off to hide in my bedroom when you’re angry. And now, apparently, you’re sleeping in my bed.”

“It was an accident. Rena wouldn’t go back to sleep and I wanted to be close to her bed when she finally did. I guess we just fell asleep. I don’t remember lying down with her.”

“You slept in my bed, Harry.”

“And I just said that it was an accident.”

“But like, what part of ‘my house’ don’t you understand?”

Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “Obviously I know that this is your house, but Rena needs someone here to take care of her. I can’t do that from my house.”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here?” Zayn almost shouts. Almost. He does remember that Baby is sleeping in the other room. He’s not stupid. “I took care of her perfectly fine when you were at work the other day. We had no issues.”

“Oh so it’s my fault that I had to work? I tried to take the day off.”

“No one asked you to, though,” Zayn says, folding his arms over his chest. “No one asked you for your help. I asked you if you had a banana, not if you wanted to move into my place and raise a baby with me.”

“Obviously,” Harry retorts, rolling his eyes. “Obviously that’s what you asked me, but you did it because you needed help. You had her caged between your kitchen chairs.”

“So I could walk over to your house without her getting into anything.”

“A smart person would have brought her over with them, not left her home alone. So yeah, good job on knowing what you’re doing, Malik,” Harry says, slow clapping for Zayn. “Honestly, you’re doing an amazing job.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I could if you’d stop trying to do my job for me. Maybe I’d be able to get the hang of this if you stopped trying to take over,” Zayn says. “She wasn’t left for you, she was left for me. Whoever did that wanted me to have her, not you, so why are you even here?”

If looks could kill, Zayn would have dropped down to the ground, his heart faltering in his chest before he could finish saying “here”. Harry looks positively murderous, his face red and eyes narrowed. It’s kind of scary, the way his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. He looks… He’s hurt. He’s angry. And Zayn did that; Zayn brought those emotions out of him.

“You know what,” Harry says, breathing out of his nose, his eyes narrowed angrily. “Whatever. I don’t fucking care.” He turns on his heel at that and storms out of the house, grabbing his cat and slamming the door behind him.

Zayn watches him go and thinks good. Finally.

++

“Just the two of us, Baby,” Zayn says, slicing up an apple. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been waiting for this.”

Baby gurgles, slamming her cup down on the ground.

“You’re going to love this. Apples are excellent, I promise.” Baby nods but walks off into the next room and Zayn uses the opportunity to stick the apple into the oven. He read online that they need to be baked a bit so they’re easier for babies to chew, since they don’t have many teeth. Zayn checked the inside of Baby’s mouth, counting five and one that he thinks has just broke through. But they’re all in front and it’s not that many, so baked apples for breakfast is what she’s getting.

Zayn finds Baby crouched down in front of his coffee table, reaching under it for some of the books that he keeps under there. He glances around and tries to find the stack that Harry bought her the other day.

“Do you want to read while breakfast cooks?” Zayn asks, taking a seat on the floor. “Baby, come here.” He pats his thigh and she looks at him, grinning before she wobbles towards him, trying to yank the book out of his hand. “No, we’ll read this together. Bubbles Bubbles sounds like one that I’ll enjoy.”

It’s a short book about different animals in the bath, mostly about the bubbles that accompany them in the bath. He doesn’t get to read the whole thing because Baby keeps closing it to examine the back cover or turning the page before Zayn is ready, which is fine. She’s a baby, after all. Eventually, though, he gives up trying to read and decides to just talk to her about the imagery on the pages. Zayn tells her different colors, what the animals are, and he tries to count the bubbles with her.

It’s fun, spending time with her. Zayn kind of likes it actually. He likes watching her carry the book around like she’s reading it while he pulls her apple out of the oven. He likes sitting down at the table with her while she eats her apple and he enjoys one of the pastries that Harry brought him. The only thing he doesn’t like is changing her diapers and trying to slip a green dress on over her head as she tries to roll away from him.

“You’re a stubborn little thing,” Zayn tells her, tickling Baby’s side before he lets her run off, the back of her dress stuffed into her diaper.

++

Exhaustion sets in on the second day, his joints heavy and head foggy from lack of sleep. Baby had been awake all night, not wanting to sleep for more than a couple hours. Putting her down was fine; she went to sleep at eight-thirty without a problem, passing out in her bed, arm curled around her bear and body tucked under the blanket Zayn draped over her. He had enough time to take a shower, watch a movie, and get a couple hours worth of sleep of his own before Baby woke up the first time.

Zayn had tried to see if she would cry it out before he actually did anything about it. That time all she needed was a bit of a cuddle, wanting to sleep against his chest instead of in her bed for a while.

The next time she wanted a bottle. And the time after that her leg got twisted in her blanket and she couldn’t roll over like she wanted, then because she thought four in the morning was the best time to be awake. Zayn gave her another bottle then and listened to the sounds of her cooing as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Three hours of that and she was fast asleep again, but Zayn wasn’t.

Looking back on it, Zayn reasons that he might have gotten no more than four hours of sleep, which would be fine, normally, but now Baby won’t nap. She doesn’t want to take her morning nap and he can’t even get her to try and take it later after lunch.

“We have to eat, Baby,” Zayn says, nudging a piece of food towards her. She whines, slapping at Zayn’s hand. She looks at him pitifully, her mouth pulled down in a deep frown as she pulls at the hair behind her ears. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want more than just a bottle?”

Baby kicks her legs out, whining once more.

“All right,” Zayn sighs, dropping the food down. He can admit defeat. “You need a cuddle, then?”

Baby’s arms shoot up in the air, silently begging him to pick her up. She doesn’t stop whining and thrashing around in her chair until she’s safely in Zayn’s arms, her head resting on his chest.

“There ya go,” Zayn murmurs, patting her back gently. Maybe if he holds her long enough she’ll fall asleep and then he’ll be able to nap with her. Maybe listening to him shush her while he soothingly rubs her back will help her fall into a peaceful slumber. Or maybe she’ll at least relax enough to let Zayn sleep, because all she really wants is a cuddle today.

It’s all wishful thinking, though. Zayn spends all day trying to get her to fall asleep. Baby spends all day ignoring his attempts and crying, her face buried into his shoulder or on the edge of the couch when she doesn’t want him near her. It’s not until a little after seven that Baby finally falls asleep and it takes Zayn less than five minutes to join her, his body happy for the excuse to shut down for the night.

++

It’s been days since Zayn last had a cigarette. Far longer than he’s ever gone before but he’s stressed and he’s tired, so if he wants to smoke in his backyard, then he’s going to smoke in his backyard.

He checks to make sure all of Harry’s windows are shut before he lights up, his body sagging in relief at the first inhale. He walks through the grass and stops outside of his bedroom window, peeking through to make sure that Baby is still sleeping soundly. She is, luckily enough, and Zayn’s able to enjoy the last of his cigarette in relative peace.

Zayn’s debating on if he should light another one when he hears a strange noise to his right. Jerking back to look at it, Zayn finds Pebbles sitting on his windowsill, pawing at the window. It’s closed but she’s trying to break in, Zayn can tell. Her scratching is getting more and more aggressive, accompanied with angry drawn-out mewling noises.

“You’re not getting in there,” Zayn mutters, moving towards her quickly. “Don’t you have a home?”

Pebbles meows at him, trying her best to fight against his grip as he sets her down in front of Harry’s door.

“Tell him you want inside,” he says, closing his door quickly. He locks it, just for good measure, and then closes the blinds on the windows so Pebbles can’t see inside the house.

Afterwards he takes a shower, wanting to wash the smell of smoke off his body, and by the time he finishes getting dressed Baby is waking up, sitting up in her playpen and smiling at him.

“Good morning,” Zayn says, his voice pitched high as he pulls her out. “Oh let’s get you changed and then I can start making you breakfast, yeah?”

Baby let’s out a laugh, one that is so absurdly fake. Zayn can’t help but laugh with her, working quickly to get her changed. He leaves her in her diaper, figuring that clothes can come later, if at all. Babies love not wearing clothes and Zayn’s willing to do anything to ensure she doesn’t get upset today. Anything.

“What do you say to some bananas and eggs? Does that sound like a good one?” Zayn asks, already digging around in his fridge for the eggs. “I could definitely do with some—hey, no. You can’t get into that.” Zayn moves quickly to pull Baby out of the cabinet with the cleaning supplies, pulling the window cleaner out of her hands. “No, let’s get you seated and eating, hmm?”

Baby whines, trying to wiggle out of Zayn’s grasp as he sets her down in her seat. She grins when she sees the banana, already reaching for it as Zayn’s slices it up quickly.

“That’s a girl; I knew you’d love this.”

Baby gurgles at him, eyes wide as she stuffs the banana in her mouth, bits of her fingers going in with it.

“Is that yummy?” Zayn asks, moving across the room to start on the eggs. Baby responds with a mumble, jumbled sounds slurred together into little baby words. “Yeah, I might eat a banana while I cook these. I’m not sure. Could I have a banana?”

Baby shakes her head, taking another bite.

“You won’t share?” Another head shake. “Well, then maybe I’ll have an apple. You didn’t really like those too much when I made them last, did you?”

Baby sighs, mumbling something else and Zayn just nods, turning his back on her so he can finish making their eggs.

++

Zayn breaks on the third day without Harry’s help.

Breakfast, Baby’s morning nap, and lunch go smoothly. Baby was happy and giggly, running around Zayn’s house as he followed her, pretending to be a friendly monster. Not a mean one, just one that made growling noises and snuck up on her and tickled her. She loved it, actually, and Zayn had fun playing with her.

And it was fun, but the lack of sleep from the night before was still deep in his bones and Zayn couldn’t wait for her afternoon nap so that he could take one as well, maybe they’d both sleep in his bed so Baby has room to move. But the afternoon nap isn’t for another two hours and Baby is beginning to grow restless. She wants to get into everything that Zayn owns. She tries to get into all of his cabinets, his closets, his bathroom, and his dressers. Baby even tries to knock down all his DVD’s and tries to tear some of the pages out of his books. She doesn’t want hers; she wants his, with the fragile paper pages.

Zayn’s able to distract her while he hides his books when he turns on one of the music channels he has, some song he’s never heard before breaking the silence of his house. Baby squeals in delight, hands clapping as she bounces up and down, arms held in the air, tiny hips moving side to side.

“There you go,” Zayn says, dropping down on the couch. “Everyone loves music.”

And everyone does, even Baby, but only for so long. Eventually she gets bored and starts wandering around Zayn’s house again. Forcing Zayn off the couch so that he can chase her around again.

He loses sight of her for a moment, just a tiny second, only to find her trying to stick her finger into the outlet. He moves quickly, snatching her up off the floor. “You can’t do that,” Zayn says, panting slightly from the jolt of nervous energy that flashed through his veins so quickly. Baby could have gotten seriously hurt. “Baby, you cannot do that. No, no.”

Baby screams, tossing her head back and connecting it with Zayn’s nose.

“Oh fuck,” Zayn curses, setting a thrashing Baby down on the ground so he can cup his nose. It’s not bleeding, but it hurts like a bitch. It’s sore to the touch but Zayn thinks he’ll be alright. Baby, however, is back to trying to stick her fingers in the outlet and Zayn has to move quickly to stop her again.

“No,” he says, shaking his finger at her. “No, no.”

Baby whines shoving at his hand and trying to walk back towards the outlet.

“No, you can’t do that,” Zayn says, picking her up again. He’s careful in how he holds her, not wanting her to hit him in the face again as he carries her towards the kitchen, setting her down in her chair. “Let’s get you a snack, yeah?”

A snack doesn’t work because Baby screams an ear-piercing shriek that rips through Zayn. He flinches at the sound of it, every time it leaves her little body. It’s too big of a noise to come from someone as small as she is, but that doesn’t stop her continued screaming.

Nothing works to settle her and tears are beginning to fall from her eyes as she screams, even when Zayn tries to take her out of the chair. She wants nothing to do with him, absolutely nothing and Zayn’s not sure what he should do. He has no idea. He’s never done something like this before.

It’s twenty minutes of screaming before he finally realizes what it is he has to do, and it’s a tough pill to swallow but…

Zayn sighs, because he can do this. It’s not the hardest thing he’s ever had to do in his life, but that doesn’t stop it from being difficult when he raises his fist and knocks on Harry’s front door.

Harry’s car is parked on the street, so he knows that he’s home. Harry’s just not moving quickly enough and Baby is still screaming inside of Zayn’s kitchen so he knocks some more, and continues knocking until Harry’s door is finally yanked open and Harry is practically shouting, “What?”

“You were right. You were absolutely right,” Zayn says quickly, his mouth moving faster than his brain can think of what it is he’s saying. “I’ve realized these past three days just how impossible this feels when you’re doing it alone.”

“Taking care of the baby?” Harry asks.

Zayn nods. “Yes, taking care of the baby. It’s almost impossible,” he says, releasing a deep breath. “I have no idea how single parents do this, not at all. And I would really, really love it if you could please come back and help me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. There’s a look in his eyes, one that gives away how bothersome Baby’s screams are to him, but he doesn’t want to give into Zayn. Zayn doesn’t blame him.

“I promise that I’ll work on my behavior. I won’t argue with you anymore. And if you want to sleep at my house you can, I’ll help carry your mattress over to my place and we can put it in the spare bedroom. Then we can talk to the landlord, tell him how you’re leaving and coming to live with me,” Zayn rants off, not stopping to breathe. “I’ll give up smoking as well, I’m done with it. It’s a disgusting habit and I never want to touch it again. Here you can have my pack.” Zayn scrambles to pull it out of his pocket, practically throwing it at Harry. “They’re yours now. Please just come back. Please. I’m so exhausted and she won’t stop screaming. I’m only good for fun times; I’m awful when it comes to actually soothing her. Please.”

“Alright, calm down,” Harry says, passing the cigarettes back to Zayn. “Calm down.”

Zayn releases a shaky breath, nodding. “Please help.”

“Alright,” Harry says, running his fingers through his hair as he steps out of his house. “You’re going to get some sleep. You’re about to break and that’s not something she needs to deal with, so go. Go in there and get some rest.” He shoves Zayn into his house and Zayn frowns, staring at Harry. “My bedroom is down the hall, take a nap. I’ll go take care of the baby, alright?”

++

Zayn wakes up three hours later, his brain fuzzy but no longer throbbing. Everything feels settled inside of him, the rest being exactly what he needed.

He stretches out, kicking Harry’s blankets off his body. Harry really does have the most comfortable bed that Zayn’s ever had the pleasure of using. It’s firm under his back but still manages to feel like he’s sleeping on pillow. It’s amazing, really, and as Zayn crawls out of it he makes sure to do it up the way it was before he ruined it.

Sparing a glance around Harry’s bedroom, Zayn can’t help but shake his head. Everything is old and rustic, like he found it all in a barn seventy miles outside of town. It’s all dark woods and rich reds, vanilla scented candles scattered across the surface of his dresser. There are tattered books on the end tables, socks littering his floor. It’s a little snapshot into Harry’s life, a piece of him that he’s never seen before, but it all still feels like Harry.

Zayn stumbles through his house so that he can go check on Harry and Baby. He locks the door behind him and sighs when he sees Pebbles rushing past him, already pawing at his front door. He’s not going to argue it, Harry let him sleep in his bed, so the least he can do is let Pebbles into his house with only minor grumbles under his breath.

Harry’s sitting on the couch, thumbing through his phone while Baby is happily dancing to the music channel that he has on the TV. It’s not the same one that he’d left on, but one that is designed to play songs from Disney movies.

“Do you feel better?” Harry asks, dropping his phone down on the table to look up at Zayn. “You were sleeping for a while.”

“Yes, I feel amazing. Thank you, seriously,” Zayn says, taking a seat next to him. “She didn’t sleep the other night and I guess last night I didn’t catch up like I thought I would.”

“It happens,” Harry shrugs, and it doesn’t make Zayn feel any better that he almost lost it today, but it is nice to know that Harry isn’t going to hold it against him.

Zayn smiles when he sees Baby approaching the couch, her mouth pulled open in a wide smile as he looks at Zayn, murmuring sounds that only she understands. She stops at the couch, slapping her hands down on the couch cushion. Baby tilts her head to the side, saying something that sounds an awful lot like the word bubba.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Zayn says, lifting her up and setting her down on his lap. “Did you have fun while I was sleeping?”

Baby shakes her head and leans down to grab the remote off the couch next to Harry.

“Ah, you just wanted to get to that, you didn’t want me, did you?” Zayn teases, tickling her sides.

“No, she likes you,” Harry tells him, nodding when Zayn glances at him.

“She’s just gotten used to me, is all.”

Harry shrugs, turning back towards the television, watching as Baby unintentionally flips through the channels, her finger clamped down on the button as she waves it around in the air.

++

Zayn makes a point of going to work the next day, even though the museum had offered him time off. He wants it, he needed the day to himself, even if he spent it stopping people from touching the art on the walls. It was enough to get his mind and body back into sync, out of that funk he fell into during that bad day with Baby.

Harry seemed thrilled to be able to spend the day alone with Baby, promising that he’ll text Zayn updates every hour. He stayed true to that promise; Zayn’s phone was consistently vibrating in his pocket from pictures and videos, all of them of Baby. It was almost like he was there, like Harry wanted Zayn to not feel excluded.

It almost makes Zayn feel bad about shunning Harry for those three days.

Almost.

When Zayn gets home from work, an hour a half of silence from Harry’s end of things, he finds Harry and Baby sleeping on the couch together. Baby’s lying on his chest; her eyes open as she hums to herself, picking at the thread of Harry’s shirtsleeve.

Zayn makes sure to stay quiet as he toes out of his boots and steps across the room. Pebbles blinks an eye open at him, looking thoroughly unimpressed, while Baby tries to sit up, fighting against Harry’s arms.

“Hey, Baby,” Zayn greets, whispering quietly so he doesn’t wake Harry. “Did you sleep well?”

He reaches down for Baby, wanting to take her from Harry so that he can sleep, but Harry groans, stretching his legs out. He blinks up at Zayn, smiling softly. “Yeah, I slept fine,” he says and Zayn has to bite his tongue, because he was most definitely not talking to Harry. “I didn’t even know I feel asleep.”

Zayn takes Baby from Harry and laughs lightly under his breath, watching as Harry struggles to keep his eyes open, blinking slowly.

“Go back to sleep, Harry,” Zayn says, patting him on the back before he walks away to change Baby’s diaper.

++

Zayn takes Baby out back to play while Harry sleeps. He grabs some of the toys that Harry bought and Louis’ soccer ball that he left at Zayn’s place for them to play with. Baby seems to like the ball, pushing it a few inches away from her before she squeals and throws her hands in the air in excitement.

“Come here; let me show you how to kick it, yeah?”

Zayn sets the ball down in front of her and connects his foot to it softly, not wanting it to fly across the grass. It moves less than a foot and Baby claps, proud of Zayn for being able to move it.

“Yeah, see the trick is to hit it with the side of your foot, not the toes,” Zayn explains, kicking it back towards Baby. “Your trick is going to be maintaining your balance, obviously.”

Baby pushes the ball towards him and then immediately falls down on her butt.

“See, you’re not very good at the standing thing yet, huh? At least not with one foot off the ground, but don’t worry; I started out the same way and look at me now.” He holds his arms out to show off a bit and Baby looks at him, sticking her tongue out before she toddles off, wandering away.

Zayn laughs under his breath, following behind her as they walk to circumference of his yard. They even venture into Harry’s, which isn’t hard since they’re connected, but Zayn figures breaking the boundaries set out isn’t that much of a big deal anymore, not when Harry’s sleeping on his couch.

Baby starts to get restless after twenty minutes and Zayn manages to convince her to sit in the grass, his legs spread wide so they can push the ball back and forth.

“Can you say Zayn?”

“Ah.”

“No, Zayn.”

“Ah.”

Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “Can you say bubbles?”

“Bubu.”

“That’s much better than before, good job,” Zayn praises. “Say Kitty.”

“Kiki.”

“You’re too smart, Baby. By next week you’ll be saying Zayn.”

“Ah.”

Zayn shrugs. “It’s a work in progress,” he reasons, following her once more.

++

Harry’s in the kitchen making tea when Zayn finds him, Zayn having just put Baby in her playpen for the night. He’s got his back turned, humming under his breath while the kettle fills with water.

“Can you make me some?” Zayn asks, sitting down at the table.

Harry startles, turning around to look at Zayn. “Jesus. I thought you’d be in there with her for a while longer. Is she already asleep?”

“Nearly. She was forcing herself to stay awake because I was in there, so I figure this is for the best.”

“Smart,” Harry says, nodding. He flicks off the water and moves to put the kettle on Zayn’s stovetop. “Do you think the whistle will wake her? I didn’t really think this through.”

“It’ll be fine,” Zayn mumbles, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

They stay there for a while in silence, Zayn watching Harry get cups out of the cabinet and the tea bags from the other cabinet. He moves around Zayn’s kitchen with a familiar ease that sets off an odd flutter in Zayn’s stomach, because it hasn’t been that long since Baby came into their life for Harry to know where everything is in Zayn’s house.

Harry sets Zayn’s mug down in front of him on the table and then takes a seat on the chair next to him. Zayn watches him for a moment and figures that now is as good a time as any to talk to Harry. See, when Zayn was at work he spent the day thinking about his argument with Harry, about giving Baby a name, and while Zayn still adamantly believes that naming Baby will have them both attached, he knows that it’s been too long and she needs a name. Even if she had one before, she needs one, because she’s learning and babies shouldn’t be confused on their name.

“You were right, you know,” Zayn says, swallowing down the nasty taste those words leave in his mouth. Harry raises an eyebrow at him, not understanding what Zayn is talking about.

“I am? About what?”

“Baby needs a name.”

Harry grins, and it’s blinding. “Okay. Yeah, I mean, I have a lot of suggestions.”

“Well, I’m ready to listen.”

“You have to promise that you won’t be rude about the ones you don’t like, though. I don’t want to offer my ideas in an unsafe environment.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, holding his hands up in surrender. “Yeah, I won’t say anything rude.”

“Okay, what do you think about Sophia?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I have a friend with a girlfriend named that, it’d be weird.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” Harry says, nodding his head. “And good job on the rejection, much better this time. What about Emma?”

“No, she doesn’t look like one.”

“Gabrielle?”

“No, I used to know a girl with that name and she wasn’t the nicest. Baby could do a lot better.”

Harry nods his head, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“What about Riley?” Zayn asks, realizing that he hasn’t offered anything both times that they talked. Harry pulls a face, shaking his head, and Zayn wants to remind him that it’s he who has been calling her Baby since he met her. “Well, don’t say I didn’t try.”

“Serena,” Harry says, nodding like he’s figured it all out and Zayn wants to protest on principle, wants to tell Harry that it’s an awful name, just because Harry shot his name down but then he mulls it over, thinking about the sleeping little girl in the other room.

“That’s perfect,” Zayn says, watching as Harry smiles brightly, all together too pleased with himself. “That fits her, actually. I didn’t think it would work but it does.”

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous, just like her,” Zayn agrees, taking a sip of his tea. Serena. It’s absolutely perfect and Zayn’s happy that he ignored all of Harry’s attempts at naming her before this, because this… This is what he’s been waiting for, he thinks.

“She has a name now,” Harry says after a while, setting his cup down on the table. “Do you know what that means?”

Zayn looks at him, eyebrow raised as he shakes his head. All Harry does is grin in reply and it’s almost eerie. 

++

Cribs. Everywhere.

Zayn’s overwhelmed, following behind Harry, his mouth hung open because how many different kinds of cribs does the world need? Why isn’t there just one basic model available in different colors for the people who really need to spice up their lives. But they’ve already looked at twenty different kinds and Harry has an opinion on every single one of them.

_“No, that one’s not even made of real wood.”_

_“No, it’s too white. I want dark wood.”_

_“No, I don't like how sharp those corners look, she could hurt herself.”_

_“It was nice, but I’ve just read the reviews and it’s a disaster. I don’t like it anymore.”_

Zayn thinks they all look the same. More or less, he can tell that some of them have bars that resemble a cut of wood you could find in a store, some are rounded with grooves at the top and bottom. Some cribs are imitation wood, some pine, some oak. Some are stained darker than others while some are painted white. But for the most part, they’re all the same.

“Zayn, what do you think of this one?” Harry asks, pointing out a crib that looks…well, Zayn’s almost positive they looked at it ten minutes ago. “It converts, apparently. So like, it can become a toddler bed and then a twin sized, so she can use it for years.”

“I mean, yeah. It looks good,” Zayn says, running his fingers through his hair.

“It has a matching dresser and everything, so we’d obviously have to get the whole set.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Harry glances around, looking for something. Zayn’s not sure. “Do you think they’d get upset if I put her inside of it? I just want to see what she looks like in it.”

“I’m sure you’re not the first,” Zayn laughs, shaking his head, watching as Harry puts Serena in the crib. He takes a step back, staring at her while Serena watches on with wide eyes, playing with the frills of the sheets they have on it. “She looks good.”

Harry turns to look at him sharply, completely outraged. “This crib doesn’t suit her at all,” he says, pulling her out of it. “Come on, Princess; let’s find you a different one. Oh, Zayn look, that one looks like a carriage.”

“Holy shit,” Zayn breathes out, what kind of baby needs a crib that looks like a carriage? They sleep in it for barely two years. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know, no baby can sleep on that tiny little circle mattress into their toddler years,” Harry mutters, shaking his head. “I want to find another one like that last one, one that converts. It’s the most practical.”

“Whatever you want,” Zayn tells him, following behind Harry as they continue their journey.

It takes what feels like forever, but Harry finally finds a crib that he’s happy with. It’s made of a richly dark colored wood, one that Zayn can’t identify. It converts, like Harry wants, but it’s simple enough that even Zayn is satisfied with it. The backside is higher up than the rest, a half circle top that doesn’t match the flatness of the rest of it. Zayn figures that must be the headboard when she uses it as a twin bed.

The crib comes with a dresser, a simple five drawer one made of the same wood. Zayn has to stop Harry from buying two of them, because Serena hardly has enough clothes to keep it full. They bargain, and in the end Harry is able to spend the money on pale green bedding with bright pink roses on it, the set comes with a bed skirt that’s the same pink but ruffled. Everything is pink and covered in the same rose pattern with green accents.

Zayn also lets him buy some more clothes, stuffed animals, and toys. Well, lets is a very strong word for how it actually happens, because Harry just keeps handing things to Zayn until he’s forced to get a cart, which Harry fills to the brim.

++

“Zayn, where did you put the screws?” Harry asks, flipping through the manual. Zayn glances around, biting down on his bottom lip. He remembers having them, he remembers Harry telling him to place them somewhere very important so they wouldn’t get lost.

“You see, that’s a very good question,” Zayn mumbles, lifting up different crib parts trying to find them. He had them. They’re definitely here somewhere.

“You lost them?”

“I didn’t lose them; they’re just not in my hand.”

“So you lost them.”

“Harry, I said that I didn’t lose them, so stop assuming things,” Zayn snaps, trying to find the damn screws. Honestly, this is ridiculous. “I told you that we should have spoken to someone about getting this delivered and installed.”

“No, I’m fairly positive that you said you’re not wasting anymore of your money.”

“I did not say that.”

“Fine, not those exact words, but you did call it a waste of money,” Harry says smugly.

“I only said that after I saw how much you spent. Honestly, how many dresses does one person need?”

“She’s a baby, Zayn. She grows very quickly and I’m fairly certain that she’s about to hit a growth spurt so I wanted to get various sizes. Excuse me for wanting to be prepared.”

“Oh right, because you’re some kind of fucking professional,” Zayn says, growing frustrated. Where the fuck are those screws that he was looking for? “Can you please make yourself useful and help me find these fucking things?”

“Yeah, of course. I only gave them to you for safe keeping so it makes sense that I have to be the one to find them,” Harry says, tossing the instructions down on the ground. “Serena has a half made crib thanks to you.”

“Yeah, and she’s really torn up about it. I think I can hear her grumbling about it from inside of her…her…”

“Cage?” Harry tries, hand on his hip as he looks down at Zayn.

“Her bed.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh wow, look at this, the fucking screws. Right by your feet. Honestly, what is the matter with you? Are you blind?”

“I overlooked them, my bad.” Harry releases a deep breath, staring daggers into Zayn’s skin. “Are we going to make this bed or are you going to keep glaring at me?” Zayn asks, standing up. He’s not going to be challenged down on the floor, no. He wants to look Harry in his eyes if they’re going to fight like this.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Zayn shakes his head, breathing heavily for a moment before he surges forward, cupping Harry’s face in his hands and kissing him fiercely. It’s surprising how Harry doesn’t startle, just grips onto Zayn, bites down on his bottom lip, and spins them around so that Zayn is pressed up against the wall.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Harry tells him, mouth still moving against Zayn’s. It’s all teeth and tongue; Harry’s grip leaving bruises into his skin from how hard he’s holding onto Zayn. “So annoying.”

“Can you shut up?” Zayn asks, biting down on Harry’s bottom lip before his tongue slips into Harry’s mouth once more.

Harry’s mouth is wet and hot, and the only sound Zayn can hear is that of the blood rushing through his body and Harry’s breathing, loud and harsh. And as much as Zayn has claimed to hate Harry in the past, he’s taking it all back in this moment when Harry’s tongue drags across his, tugging at Zayn’s hair with one hand and scratching softly at the small of Zayn’s back with the other.

Zayn almost wishes that they were lying down, so he can use the leg between Harry’s to his advantage. Harry must have the same thought, because as Zayn is dragging his hands down to Harry’s hips, wanting to pin him against the wall, Harry rolls his hips up, pressing into Zayn.

He’s hard. Or kind of hard, Zayn’s brain is too fuzzy to fully understand that was Harry’s erection he felt on him, not anything else. Zayn’s heart is beating wildly in his chest as Harry continues to rock up against him.

It’s not the wisest of decisions, but Zayn doesn’t really care as he dips his hands into Harry’s sweatpants. He’s thick in Zayn’s hand, heavy, and he groans out deeply when Zayn thumbs across the slit. Zayn relishes in the sound, fingers wrapping around Harry as he begins to stroke him, fast and steadily, working these tiny gasps out of Harry.

“You’re impossible,” Harry mutters, hand sliding from Zayn’s back and into his pants, his own fist wrapping around Zayn.

Harry’s rough with it, wasting no time as he begins to stroke Zayn quickly, pumping him hard and dry. It almost burns, in the best way possible, Zayn’s cock thickening up impossibly hard, like it could burst with how badly he wants this. And it’s not a joke, because he can feel Harry thumbing across his slit, rubbing Zayn’s pre-come across his shaft, trying to take some of the burn away.

Zayn focuses on working Harry at the same pace, feeling every twitch of Harry’s cock in his hand while they kiss, sloppy and wet, both of them working hard to see who can make the other come first.

It’s Zayn, naturally, because he has no self-control, apparently. He sputters against Harry’s neck, hips rocking up into Harry’s fist as his stomach begins to coil in pleasure. He doesn’t have enough time to warn Harry before he’s coming, all over Harry’s fist and the inside of his boxers, like he’s back in school, hiding in his bedroom while his parents are still at work.

“Come on,” Harry whines, moving his hips and fucking into Zayn’s fist while Zayn rests uselessly against him. It takes him a moment, for his head to clear before he can get back to stroking Harry. It’s fast and Harry bites down on his shoulder when he comes, hot streaks of liquid trailing down Zayn’s fist.

Just to be an ass Zayn wipes Harry’s come on his thigh, grinning when Harry groans, digging his fingers into Zayn’s ribs.

“Why are you so awful?”

“You like it,” Zayn says back, listening to Harry’s noncommittal hum.

“Do you think we can finish the crib tomorrow?” Harry asks, breathing deeply.

Zayn nods, his head resting against Harry’s shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go to the bedroom.” He doesn’t make to move, but neither does Harry, the two of them breathing harshly, content to lean against each other and the wall…for now.

++

Harry’s wrapped around him when Zayn wakes up, a mess of curls in his mouth and limbs holding onto him tightly. Serena is in her playpen at the foot of the bed, her crib still not finished, sleeping soundly. She’s wrapped around her stuffed bear, holding onto him much like Harry is Zayn.

It takes a lot of wiggling and careful prying before Zayn is free of Harry’s restraints.

And it’s really nothing that Zayn doesn’t want to lie in bed and try to fall back asleep. It’s nothing, honestly. There are the faintest traces of nervous energy inside of Zayn’s chest, energy that could be described as panic, because he definitely had sex with Harry last night. He definitely knows what it feels like to have Harry inside of him.

But that’s not why he’s freaking out. Not—oh god, who is he kidding, Zayn thinks, stepping out onto his back porch. He digs around, trying to find the pack of cigarettes that he hid from Harry. He did promise to quit and he means it, he does, but god, there is just…there is so much going through his mind right now and Zayn needs to just breathe for a minute.

Zayn needs some time to himself, needs some time to get his head on straight before he does something stupid like… He’s not sure. One half of him thinks he might do something dumb like kiss Harry, while the other half of him thinks he’ll do something stupid like kick Harry out of his house…again.

He doesn’t want to do either of those things - besides kiss Harry, Zayn wants to do that a lot – so that’s why he has to sit in this chair and smoke, just to get his thoughts together.

There’s a lot of confusing feelings floating around his body. Ones that Zayn doesn't know what to do with.

Harry’s still annoying, is the thing. Zayn still wants to wring his neck sometimes, but he’s also tolerable and caring and genuine and so annoyingly sweet that Zayn can’t help but be endeared by him. It’s all Harry’s fault, really. Serena’s too, none of this would have happened if she hadn’t showed up, which isn’t fair to think, because it’s not her fault that she was left on a strangers doorstep.

Zayn likes Serena, and he loves having her around. And maybe, if he’s being honest, he can admit that he likes Harry and he loves having him around, as well.

God, it’s all so much. Too many feelings in such a short amount of time, Zayn thinks.

There’s a tapping at the window and Zayn glances up to see Harry frowning down at him, his eyebrows knitted together and face pinched in annoyance. Zayn sighs, blowing smoke out of his mouth and making a show of stubbing out his cigarette butt.

Zayn sees Harry nod in approval, but the frown is still etched on his face and Zayn sighs, wishing that he would have at least gone on a walk so he could have finished.

++

“Mama,” Serena says, and Zayn nods, smiling.

“Say Dada.”

“Dada.”

“Say Kitty Kitty.”

“Kiki.”

“Say baba.”

“Baba.”

“You’re so smart,” Harry praises, pulling Serena off the ground and holding her against his chest. Zayn watches as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, rocking her back and forth. “Too smart for us, aren’t you? How will we ever be able to keep up?”

“It might take you a while, but we’ll try and teach you,” Zayn says, grinning when Harry turns to glare at him.

“Ha ha, you’re funny.” Serena let’s out a fake laugh, her nose scrunched up. “She’s laughing with me, not at me.”

“I’m sure she is,” Zayn says, grabbing the remote and flipping to the music channels. “Put her down, I want to get a video of her dancing.”

Harry shakes his head, shifting Serena over towards his hip. He begins swaying, his hips moving from side to side as he grabs onto Serena’s hand, holding it out as they move together.

“She’s wants to dance with me, right?”

“Ah,” Serena shouts and Zayn grins.

“That’s my name.”

“That’s hardly your name.”

“Oh don’t be jealous that she won’t say yours, it’s unbecoming of you, Harry.”

Harry rolls his eyes, continuing to dance with Serena across the living room. He bends over, mimicking a dip and she squeals, gripping onto Harry’s shoulders as she laughs.

Zayn pulls his phone out and switches the camera to video before he holds it up, focusing on Harry and Serena as they dance. She allows Harry to move around with her, lets him dip her and spin her while Zayn watches, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him.

Zayn watches them dance and realizes that this is his life now, his life with a baby and a neighbor that he’s not sure where he stands with, the three of them working together to form a tight knit group. He’s hesitant to use the word family, because they might not be that quite yet, but watching these two dance, Zayn thinks that there might be a future in the word.

++

Zayn finds Harry later standing at the sink, hands soapy and wet as he washes the dinner dishes. Serena’s in the other room, playing with the xylophone that Harry bought her on their last shopping trip. She’s hitting it wildly, sharp sounds cutting through the air.

Zayn watches him for a moment, biting down on his bottom lip nervously. It’s a silly thing to be nervous about, because it’s not like he’s going to ask for Harry’s hand in marriage. He’s just asking him to stay. He just wants him to stay with him for a while, to help him figure out this baby thing.

Harry looks at him, an eyebrow raised. “Something wrong?” He asks, rinsing off his hands, his eyes never leaving Zayn.

“No, not really,” Zayn says, shaking his head. “I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

“So, I was thinking…Um, like, it’s not anything important, I guess,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Harry frowns, head cocked to the side as he watches Zayn closely. “I was just wondering if you would stay. If you would stay here with us. For a while, at least. I really need your help when it comes to Serena.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just stares at Zayn. He shuts the water off and slowly starts to dry his hands, the dishes forgotten in the sink. He looks- well, it’s kind of unreadable, is the thing. Zayn’s not sure what Harry’s face is supposed to be telling him, which makes panic rise up his throat like bile.

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to. It’s just, you know, like I said. I could really use the help,” Zayn swallows, shrugging. He’s trying to sound casual. “Do you think that could be a thing? Like…you staying?”

Harry glances around for a moment before he turns back to Zayn, frowning. “I thought it already was,” Harry says carefully. “I thought that’s what we’ve been doing.”

Zayn laughs, the weight on his shoulders disappearing slowly. “I wasn’t sure,” he says, shrugging when Harry raises an eyebrow. “I thought that, um, you know, you were here for her.”

“And you want me to be here for you?”

“Both is fine,” Zayn shrugs, back to trying to sound casual. “That’d be fine.”

“God, you’re an idiot,” Harry mutters, tossing the dishrag on the counter before he steps forward, pressing his lips against Zayn’s. Zayn wants to ask if that’s a yes, or if that means he’s here for Zayn and Serena or just Zayn. He wants to ask a lot of things, but instead he focuses on kissing Harry, the soft pressure of their lips pressed together.

Serena’s cry pierces through the air, startling them apart. Zayn laughs out, running his fingers through his hair as Harry takes a step back.

“I’m going to get our baby,” Harry says. “You finish these dishes.” He gives Zayn a look, shaking his head as he walks away, muttering under his breath. It sounds a lot like he’s poking fun at Zayn, but Zayn can’t be assed to care.

“Our baby,” Zayn says, smiling to himself. And in the end that’s all that really matters, they can figure the rest out later.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://www.alnimawrites.tumblr.com) if you want to yell at me about this or anything :).


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